that happened between Master and Miss in their Childhood.
* The nation and Church of Scotland.
John had a sister, a poor girl that had been starved at nurse. Anybody
would have guessed Miss to have been bred up under the influence of a
cruel stepdame, and John to be the fondling of a tender mother. John
looked ruddy and plump, with a pair of cheeks like a trumpeter; Miss
looked pale and wan, as if she had the green sickness; and no wonder,
for John was the darling: he had all the good bits, was crammed with
good pullet, chicken, pig, goose, and capon; while Miss had only a
little oatmeal and water, or a dry crust without butter. John had his
golden pippins, peaches, and nectarines; poor Miss, a crab-apple, sloe,
or a blackberry. Master lay in the best apartment, with his bedchamber
towards the south sun. Miss lodged in a garret exposed to the north
wind, which shrivelled her countenance. However, this usage, though it
stunted the girl in her growth, gave her a hardy constitution; she had
life and spirit in abundance, and knew when she was ill-used. Now and
then she would seize upon John's commons, snatch a leg of a pullet, or
a bit of good beef, for which they were sure to go to fisticuffs. Master
was indeed too strong for her, but Miss would not yield in the least
point; but even when Master had got her down, she would scratch and bite
like a tiger; when he gave her a cuff on the ear, she would prick him
with her knitting-needle. John brought a great chain one day to tie her
to the bedpost, for which affront Miss aimed a penknife at his heart. In
short, these quarrels grew up to rooted aversions; they gave one another
nicknames, though the girl was a tight clever wench as any was, and
through her pale looks you might discern spirit and vivacity, which made
her not, indeed, a perfect beauty, but something that was agreeable. It
was barbarous in parents not to take notice of these early quarrels, and
make them live better together, such domestic feuds proving afterwards
the occasion of misfortunes to them both. Peg had, indeed, some odd
humours* and comical antipathy, for which John would jeer her. "What
think you of my sister Peg," says he, "that faints at the sound of an
organ, and yet will dance and frisk at the noise of a bagpipe?" "What's
that to you?" quoth Peg. "Everybody's to choose their own music." Then
Peg had taken a fancy not to say her Paternoster, which made people
imagine strange things of her. Of the three brothers that have made such
a clutter in the world--Lord Peter, Martin, and Jack--Jack had of late
been her inclinations. Lord Peter she detested, nor did Martin stand
much better in her good graces; but Jack had found the way to her heart.
I have often admired what charms she discovered in that awkward booby,
till I talked with a person that was acquainted with the intrigue, who
gave me the following account of it.
* Love of Presbytery.